Scout and Boys
by CharismaHarmony
Summary: multichapter Scout has begun to mature her chaste beauty and remarkable common sense has made her a rose among the lilies. Boys are infatuated with her, some travelling from outside Maycomb came just to meet her. Scout is definitely ripe for the picking
1. Chapter 1

**Scout and Boys**

**Standard Disclaimer Apply

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****Author's Note: **I just love Scout! And I'll also add some literature notes about the historical background in this fic. Stay tuned! 

**Setting: **1930s

**Summary: multichapter **Scout has begun to mature; her chaste beauty and remarkable common sense has made her a rose among the lilies. Boys are infatuated with her, some travelling from outside Maycomb came just to meet her. Scout is definitely ripe for the picking! But who would she choose? Chp 1 in Jem's P.O.V.

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**Jem**

When we were little, that low-life scum, Bob Ewell, attacked us. I was glad that Scout, my little sister was still alive, although I wasn't in a very good shape. The undeserving man had broken my arm in two; my elbow snapped, literally.

After that incident, I wondered if Scout was traumatized by it; wondered if she felt fear of dying. Now, I'm even more worried about Scout's well being and mental health. I worry if she'll be able to take care of herself once I've gone to University. Not that I doubt her fighting abilities; in fact, her skills had improved with sly cunningness to boot.

So, I made sure her intellectual capabilities and intelligence caught up to those of a college graduate by dousing her on political events happening outside of Maycomb and cleverly spent my allowances on deep college books for her to read. I want her to be able to follow me to University around the same time as I do.

Frankly, I don't want to be seen hanging around my little sister too much, but these horrendous barbarians kept following Scout wherever she went, disrupting her peace, I'm not so concern about her peace, but who knows what they could have done if they one day decided that it's a good idea to work with each other and 'size her up'. Things would get nasty and she would be terribly outnumbered.

It's not as if _they _are out to get her; it is actually the opposite.

Scout had outgrown the rash of adolescent pimples and had now been recovering rather nicely. Those were her worst times, because she was teased unmercilessly from the boys and made fun of by the girls. I reckon both sexes were jealous. During her 'phase', as Atticus puts it, I wasn't around enough, because I had to travel quite a bit to attend College.

Scout barely cried, but when she did, I was outraged. I made a scene in her school by fighting with the bullies, and surprisingly, Scout was embarrassed by my actions. That hurt me, because I was only looking out for her.

**_Now, _**it was a different story.

Boys and girls flock over to our house so often (although most of them were seniors), I actually thought we were in a barnyard tending to our animals. Even Dill came over to Maycomb so often during the short and long holidays that Miss Rachel allowed him to go to school there; he threatened he'd run away again if she didn't agree to his proposition. You don't have to be a mad rocket scientist to figure out what's attracting all those bees to the honeycomb now, do you?

In my long absence (then I decided to board in College, because traveling so far was a waste of time and energy), Scout had begun to blossom. She was more self-conscious now than then and finally made a decision to let her hair grow (much to Aunt Alexandra's delight) Being her older sibling, the maturing of my sister's body had brought to my attention about the **predatory** glances Scout was receiving from the boys. _Beasty, slimy, sneaky little brats. _

Jem ticked off (as in making a mental list) half of Scout's male classmates that are infatuated with her, including Chuck Little, Walter Cunningham, _Charles Baker Harris _etc. There was this Cecil Jacobs though, but Jem didn't mind Cecil hanging around his little sister. In fact, Cecil has come to be a nice surprise in contrast to those ill-mannered adolescents (who apologised profusely for teasing her last year); he's very intelligent for his age, very polite and respectful, even defending Scout a couple of times.

"A different one everyday," I muttered sourly under my breath after recognizing who walked Scout home – my visiting college mate, Tim Johnson. By George! He shared the same name as that rabid dog Atticus shot a decade ago. I was suddenly overcome by hunter instincts, wanting to track my friend down and cuff him. I specifically told him "not to 'make a pass' on my sister."

But did he listen? Nooooo.

_Calm down, Jeremy Atticus Finch. He's just talking to Scout. _

Jem sighed. _Being a brother is so stressful. _

One thing Jem's certain is this: If any boy tries anything, Scout sure knows to kick where it hurts.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reviewing: **hugs** 23lilly, bloomingauthor7, msjockeywriter, and ShinningSilverLove! You guys rock my fic**:-)**

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**Eunice Ann Simpson**

I blushed when Tim Johnson smiled at me on his way. He was whistling and was humming merrily and I concluded that the walk with Jean Louise was a pleasant one. This was a rather pleasant surprise then the looks of bewilderment or glassy lovesick glazes that I usually see on boys on their way from the Finch's Landing. Jean Louise usually like pulling pranks or exert 'revenge' in very subtle forms on a certain group of ex-bullies.

I chuckled when I remembered Jean making a Jewish youth promise to 'delicately smooth the way for needy students, no matter what colour their skin were, and entertain them all cordially, inviting them to take refuge in his house'. In hopes of helping to restore social equality, Jean used these' humanitarian' tactics to trick her possible suitors into helping the unfortunate. And she was **_so_** good at it.

What made it worthwhile was, a large number of them took her words seriously and they were waiting for the day that their promises will be fulfilled, that Scout would be engaged to them.

Although it was disheartening to know that the promises Jean made are empty ones, I cannot help but pity her position. This will be the largest scrape she'll ever get into. I said that to her and she just laughed it off and shrugged saying that 'sooner or later, along the way, they'll find someone to spoil an' pamper'.

At two o'clock, the streets are quiet with the occasional trotting of horses or footsteps of children, but the gossipmongers had to mead out a traditional routine: afternoon naps. I quickly hurried to Jean's home. I wouldn't want to be reprimanded for not taking a nap, although Jean had never taken afternoon naps before, and all we do was read in her room. Mrs. Alexandra doesn't even suspect a thing, because we were so quiet.

I stepped onto the porch. The Finch House was a pretty brown cottage, very like the Dove-cote, nestled among the trees. Jean says that I daydream too much and should 'gather the vivid descriptions and translate them into novels'. She also says that I have a 'river of passion for writing' and might as well try experience as a journalist to 'jog the conventional thinking that women can bring the current affairs on paper just as well'.

Taking a few steps, Calpurnia, their black maid opened the door for me and greeted me warmly. "Miss Simpson looking for Miss Jean Louise?"

I nodded curtly, strangely feeling out of place. "Would you mind waiting in the sitting room?"

I shook my head and she gently bundled me into the house, fussing me a little with tea and cakes.

Suddenly, the door in conjunction to the sitting room burst open, revealing a fraught Scout and a persistent Finch male.

"Have you hit your head on the beam again? It was your friend, for God's sake! I thought it would be polite to accept his offer to walk me home!"

I wasn't surprised that Jeremy over-reacted. Again.

Jean Louise was certainly flourishing. She was the most original young person, full of pranks and peculiarities, a heart to house credibility and justice, and the latest, confidence in everything she set her mind into. Of course, her external appearance had begun to glow, and all those who follow the light would be entranced in all that she has to offer.

Although, I was rather disappointed that boys get attracted by looks first, but it is an unfair world as Jean constantly tell her.

My eyes settled on Jeremy, and I involuntarily blushed. I still did not forget how he snidely commented 'If you have faith in God, you wouldn't get burnt' to me when I complained that it was hot in the furnace and the class sho'nt tie me up and leave me there. That was a few years ago.

I didn't hold a grudge to him for his comment. I guess I like him…

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This character does appear in Part 1 of the novel before Calpurnia suggested she take Jem and Scout to the First Purchase (church). 

**Literature Notes:**

The novel is set in the 1930s, when USA, like the rest of the world, was suffering from a severe economic depression following the collapse of the stock market in 1929. In every American city of any size, long 'bread lines' of the unemployed formed to receive basic foodstuffs for themselves and their families, their only means of subsistence. It was a time when even a full-time employee, such as a mill worker, earned barely enough to live on; in 1931, a person working 55 or 60 hours a week in Alabama and other places would earn only about $156 annually.

For parts of the deep South like Maycomb County, the Depression meant that the bad times that had been going on for decades got a little bit worse. White farmers were more likely to own land, but they were cash poor. It was common for children to go to school barefoot, and to suffer from ringworm and other diseases. Although automobiles had been around for some years, most families still depended on horses for transportation and to plough their fields.

The economic collapse of the 1930s resulted in ferocious rivalry for very few jobs that became available. Consequently, the ill will between black and white people that had existed ever since the Civil War intensified, as each group competed with the other for the few available jobs. One result was the incidents of lynching – primarily of African-Americans- continued.

To get some idea of what USA was like in those times, I suggest the film _Seabiscuit_ (although it is set in California, not the deep South) or a humorous one, _O Brother Where Art Thou, _set in Mississippi.

**Please Review! It encourages me to go on with the story!**

**Was the notes helpful as well? (will be including more in later chapters)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone for reviewing! I feel encouraged:)**

Shy-Princess, bloomingauthor7, ShinningSilverLove, 23lilly, Querida101, abc, Mockingbird (Oh, I've stated the names of the person's point of view on top in bold, in the middle :)

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**Jem declared,** "I hate affected, niminy piminy chits." He muttered under his breath, "Stop being so girly." 

Unfortunately, Scout heard it and the cords are broken loose. She lunged at Jem, reaching for his neck and taking him by surprise. They tussled and involved Eunice along, toppling over the couch.

"Scout!" Calpurnia dropped the "Miss Finch" when she witnessed Scout micbehaving in front of guests. Her bed-wad hands latched onto Scout's tiny waist, bodily prying Scout away, but to no avail.

"I ain't want to be girly! I hate to think I've got'a grow up an' be Miss Jean Louise Finch an' wear skirts, an' look as prim as China-aster. If growing my hair makes me one, I'll shave my head. It's bad enough to be a girl, any-way, when I like hollarin', boys' games, and wok. I can't get over my disappointment for not being a boy for I'm dyin' to travel away, not worrying about men's carnal desires. But I can only stay home and pretend I'm a docile dear!"

Jem wiped away the sweat on his brow and his eyes glinted. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Scout?" Scout ceased strangle. "We could've cut your hair, disguise you as a boy and ship you to college. I doubt that school you're currently studyin' is challenging you enough!"

"Master Jem…" Calpurnia warned.

Jem loosen the ribbon tied snugly around Scout's long, thick hair; he cradled her fly-away locks in his hands. "I'll protect you from being…"

Aunt Alexandra marched into the room, exclaiming how "the Finch's manners are preposterous in this house" and "be as you are outside as you are at home" and she finally risen to a high note of shrill "we have a guest here!" That snapped Scout out of her fury.

"Don't be silly, Jem. We'll be found out sooner or later." Scout straightened up. She cast a long look at Jem and stuck a tongue out couple with dragging her eye-bag down. "Besides, I don't wanna cut my hair. It's long, beautiful and… heavy."

_I'm a girl, aren't I? Then I'll make the best use of it!_

Eunice had Jem on her lap and she had never seen Jem so up-close before aside from that one time…. In a flare of tight golden locks, she shoved Jem off and bolted up to Scout's bedroom.

Jem yelped and swore, which earned him 15 minutes of lecture between Calpurnia and Aunt Alexandra. Scout followed Eunice upstairs, but before going, threw a remark at Jem, "Serves you right."

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"Eunice-dear, what's the matter?" Scout asked gently at the girl who had hidden her face in her down-feathered pillow; a fluff of curly hair heaved from the pillow, now tangled in her own fingers. She was as red as a tomato and her glasses were pushed too close to her eyes.

"Did we hurt you?" Scout asked tentatively.

Scout met Eunice's blotchy eyes and fogged glasses. "Nome." Scout can't tell if she had been crying or blushing like a beetroot. "I'll have Jem apologize to you."

"No, Jean! I mean, Scout! There's no – "

"All right, Eunice-girl." Scout ruffled the top of Eunice's head. "I would've thought you'd say something like that."

Eunice had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced friends, especially Scout, who loved her very tenderly and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.

_Chink!_

"What in the world –"

_Chink!_

"I-I think it's coming from that window." Eunice pointed at the curtained window.

Scout jumped off the bed, hopped over the rug and snagged the curtains open. "By George! It's Dill and Cecil cramped in our old treehouse!" She threw open the window and welcomed them with a mischievous grin. "What in the blazes are you two gangly lads doing in a child's treehouse?"

Cecil muttered something under his breath whilst Dill replied cheerily. "Hidy-ho, my fair lady! I felt the calling to come to you and give you – ack!"

A loud pop was heard in the vicinity, and Dill fell off the branch as the sneaky target hit him. Luckily, it wasn't a far drop. But fortunately, Cecil held Dill's waistcoat in a vice grip, and the two boys were now hanging on a tree branch. Flower petals decorated the ground.

"What in the sam hill are you doing, Jem?" Cecil yelled. "We could've been killed!"

Scout flicked her head to the left and frowned at the sight of Jem holding an air rifle in his hands. She fumed, "Jem, you idiot!" and she disappeared from the window; her presence was replaced by Eunice looking out worriedly.

Cecil swung the traumatized Dill down to the ground gently and then proceeded to land beside him.

"Now, I'm warning 'ya, Dill Harris! Never sneak up to my sisters window again!" Jem slammed the window.

"Dill-boy. You a'right?" Cecil looked at the young lad. With his tawny locks in wild confusion, his long legs and arms in a tangle, Cecil noted Dill's new shape. The poor boy was so quiet that he barely moved when Cecil lifted his sleeve to examined the inflicted bruise.

Scout emerged a while later, carrying a tiny bottle in hand. Without a word, she sat down and applied the ointment on his arm.

"Oh, Scout," Dill sighed. "Jem needs to learn how to loosen his reigns on you. It's so difficult to be with you nowadays as he is back."

"Exactly. That loud crass is causing more and more disturbance and here I thought that having him home for the summer holidays would be nice," Scout tightened the cap on the bottle.

"Maybe you should get him a girl," Cecil said slyly.

"Who would want Jem? He's long, has acorns for eyes and a pickle for a nose!"

The boys burst out laughing. "Come on, Scout. You know that the girls in our class harbor little crushes on your brother. Jem has that priestly, dignified look that just makes girls go tongue-tied."

"Scout? Are you guys alright?" Eunice stepped timidly out from the back door. All eyes swerved to her. She stood uncomfortably under their stares.

"Miss Simpson, do you by any chance like Jem that way?" Cecil asked, unabashed.

"W-What are you saying?"

Cecil strode towards the cowering Eunice and asked her again. "Do. You. Like. Jeremy Atticus Finch?"

"Don't you dare push her, Cecil," Scout warned, rescuing Eunice from further stammering.

He snatched the book out from Eunice's hands. "Hah! If you want 'ye book back, you gotta tell me. So, what's it gonna be?" Cecil teased unmercifully.

"Cecil!" Scout raced at him. Cecil, for good measure, knew when to give up and run. And so he did. He jumped over the hedge and jogged through the muddy patch, lifting the book in the air mockingly. "You can't keep up, Scout!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Not in that dress," Cecil taunted.

"Why you lil' –" She tore after him, with Dill following close behind.

**Literature Notes:**

Mockingbird: Symbolism/Imagery/Significance of the Title

We first learn of the mockingbird when Atticus allowed the children air rifles for Christmas. Atticus warns them that "it's a sin to kill a mockingbird".

Miss Maudie also says the same thing, when explaining to Scout, e.g. "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but… sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

**Mockingbirds are also used as symbols of happiness and security, symbols of a world without fear or evil.** When the mockingbirds fall silent, it is a sign that the situation is ugly and dangerous. For example, when the rabid dog is approaching the house: "The trees were still, the mockingbirds were silent…"

Later in the courtroom at Tom's trial, even though the day is hot, the atmosphere reminds Scout of earlier occasion; it was"exactly" the same as cold February morning when the mockingbirds were still and the carpenters had stopped hammering on Miss Maudie's new house. The implication here is that the members of the jury who are about to reenter the courtroom with their verdict are as mad and vicious as a rabid dog.

Mockingbirds are used, therefore in a variety of ways as symbols of goodness in this novel. The title _To Kill A Mockingbird_ means **to destroy innocence and happiness**.

Tom Robinson: Tom Robinson is gentle and harmless, and sought only to help someone he thought who was in need. His fate was decided the moment Mayella Ewell accused him of rape; "Tom was a dead man the minute Mayella Ewell opened her mouth and screamed." The 'final nail on Tom's coffin' was when he admitted to feeling sorry for Mayella. This was an unfortunate mistake as the people of Maycomb did not respond well to a black man feeling sorry for a white woman; Mr. Gilmer: "You felt sorry for her, you felt sorry for her?" (he wa utterly astonished).

Boo Radley: He is shy, gentle, lives quietly, harms no one, but when the need arises, he helps out those in need, e.g. Scout and Jem when they were being attacked by Bob Ewell. Scout at one point realizes that bringing Boo out would also be like "killing a mockingbird".

It is no accident, perhaps, that the best human being in the story is given the name of a bird – Finch.

**Extra Info (Continuation of Historical Background):**

During Lee's childhood there were a series of trials that perhaps influenced the inclusion of the trial of Tom Robinson. These were the infamous 'Scottsboro Trials', which begin in April 1931 when Lee was merely 5 years old. 9 African American men from the little town of Scottsboro in Alabama were falsely accused of raping two white women. It became apparent during the legal process that there was medical evidence that proved that these women had not been raped. Nevertheless, the all-white jury found the men guilty and all but the youngest, who was aged 12 were sentenced to death. However, over the years, all but one of the men were either freed or granted parole.

At the end of the Civil War 1861-65, the Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves and briefly, in the period of Reconstruction, the Negro population had equality and power. This period lasted a mere 12 years, and soon blacks were excluded from the government, segregated from the whites and generally treated as inferior.

In the period after the First Word War, the Ku Klux Klan was active, terrorizing the blacks and their sympathizers with lynchings and burnings. In 1950s, when Harper Lee was writing this book, Alabama was again at the central of racial tension. Martin Luther King worked as a minister in Montgomery from 1954, and it was there that his Civil Rights work started, with the Montgomery bus boycott which de-segregated the town's buses in 1956. In the early 1960s, Ku Klux Klan outrages were reported in Montgomery and Meridian, Mississippi, Dill's hometown.

Maycomb, as created by Harper Lee, is a "tired old town" where little happens, though dangerous prejudices and tensions are always there. Most of the characters are good according to their own standards, but these standards are narrow (I 1925, a teacher in neighbouring Tennessee was prosecuted for teaching the theory of evolution). It is a static population and newcomers (even from North Alabama – Miss Caroline Fisher) are not accepted easily. Gossipo is rife, and so is prejudice.

**Scout becomes increasingly aware of people's basic hypocrisy in thinking about the world **(the missionary circle pitied the African tribes of Mrunas whilst condemning the negros in their town; Scout's teacher condemning the persecution of Jews but do not condemn the treatment to which the Negroes in their own town are subjected to). **Anyone who fails to conform in Maycomb is treated as odd: **Dolphus Raymond and the Radleys.

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**More to come:D Please read and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

I realised how happy I am to celebrate Christmas Eve by watching the Polar Express with my parents. Seeing is believing, huh? Bless those who do not see, yet believed. :)

This is the end for Scout and Boys. Have a pleasant holiday, dear readers and Merry Christmas

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**Jem **

I was set down from the carrier's cart at the age of three. The June grass, amongst which I stood, was taller than I was, and I wept. I had ever been so close to grass before. It towered above me and all around me, each blade tattooed with tiger-skins of sunlight. It was knife-edged, dark, and a wicked green, thick as a forest and alive with grasshoppers that chirped and chattered and leapt through the air like monkeys.

I was lost and didn't know where to move. A tropic heat oozed from the ground, rank with sharp odours of roots and nettles. I put my head back and howled, and the sun hit me smartly n the face, like a bully.

From this daylight nightmare I was awakened, as from many another, by the appearance of my mother. She leaned over me, her shining face hung up like a shield between the sky and me.

Mother.

Mischievous, muddle-headed, full of brilliant fancies, half witless, half touched with wonder, she was popular during her school days; and she was beautiful, most beautiful at that time

"Jem…Come on, Jem, wake up…" Scout's face suddenly replaced Mother's, and the uncanny resemblance shook me up. How similar they were… 

I got up from the ground, realised that I had fallen asleep with a book on my chest. "What is it, Scout?" Closing my eyes to uncross my vision, I opened them up again and was startled to see Scout dressed up. It wasn't the first time I've seen her all prettied up, but she looked like a picture this Sunday. All-dressed up with a striped blouse and choker, a new bonnet, and crochet-work gloves, she looked seventeen and shapely.

Pulling me up, Scout twirled me around, dusted my shirt and clipped the cufflinks on, before giving me a pinch on the chest. "Stop giving me that drunk look, Atticus junior. Heaven's alive of we'll be late for Aunt Maudie's wedding. I can't believe that dreamy child is finally getting married to poor Uncle Jack." That tongue of hers is still as sharp and blunt as ever. "If it wasn't for Eunice here, I would've called the Sheriff to escort me to the church."

Miss Simpson? 

Ah, I cast a look at the russet-curled Eunice. She had grown far and disturbing with secretive prettiness. Her russet curls were like apple peelings framing a polished pumpkin face and there was a waft fruity air of exploding puddings. _She must've been baking for the celebration of Peace Day. _It was one of the greatest occasions the little town of Maycomb had celebrated every year.

"Historic moments of national rejoicing," Eunice seized the white-topped tray from the front seat of the brass-lamped motor car and strapped herself with it on the back seat. I wondered how did Eunice know what I was thinking then.

"Jem, onto the passenger-seat. You're too drunk to drive." Scout took over the wheel and drove to the chapel. The car was that of the Simpson's family.

Yessir, Aunt Maudie is getting married on the busiest day of all in Maycomb where everyone was invited or self-invited themselves, though everyone brought of his best from field and garden. The usual rush – chaos in the tent labelled 'Kitchen', shrill orders can be heard from under there some young mothers scrubbed their little darling boys under the pump, getting the grease and mud off their hair; little groups of boys and girls dressing up in their white robes for the wedding choir; Eunice being one of the seniors in the group wore a red chequered sash around her waist.

Funny that I'd been noticing her a lot, recognising the words she was mouthing: 'Almighty and Most Merciful Father, who alone worketh Great Marvels…" It must be verses from the selected wedding hymn that she's reciting.

"Aunt Maudie wanted her to lead the choir into the song, so Eunice is nervous about that," Scout confidently answered my questioning looks at Eunice. She gave me a sort of a sly wink and I felt uncomfortable right down to my toes. To enter the church on this one morning of the seventh day of the week, especially on this special occasion was like crawling head first into the horn of plenty, a bursting granary, a vegetable stall, a grotto of bright flowers. I looked at the crowd: many were huddled in groups, youths together or family groups, but here and there a young couple, newly-engaged, sat red in the neck and hands. The leading benches contained our gentry, their pews marked with visiting cards: the Lords of the Manor, Squire Jones and the Croomes; then the Army, the rich and the settled spinsters and finally the wealthier farmers. All were neatly arranged by protocol.

The priest adjusted his flag on his robes and gave an indication of his arms. The organ began the procession. As if on cue, everyone stood up in orderly fashion, paying his or her respects to the bride… who has yet to walk down the aisle. Eunice began to sing, the beautiful melody so aptly pitched to its correct function that I felt compelled to sing along. There it was, two little peridot fairies floating down the white carpet, flinging petals aimlessly, and completely covering the floor with white, pink and a much darker pink. Miss Maudie dressed in white was reflecting silver-white-everything; I was dazzled by the shine of her fabric and trying to focus crossed my eyes.

Even though my vision wasn't in its right state, I still managed to grasp the wedding just fine. The exchanging of vows and rings were perfectly synchronised and I could hear many people letting a breath of relief, or a sigh of romanticism. Earlier today, I heard that Uncle Jack almost threw the chickens out of their cages and looking up their arses to see if the ring was hidden in the folds. Those were ridiculous moments best kept in secret, but fortunately, he found the ring woven in the safety pin of his corsage. In the future down the road, they would have spent another 40 years together and have a couple of children of their own, but that is going too far down the future.

There are times when lights don't serve its purpose anymore and were better off being constant stars in the night sky, but I'll always remember the brightest moments of my life when I've received the beginning of a newfound feeling that lit up the rest of my journey. Looking back at her, she looked smooth and precious, a thing of unplumbable mysteries, and perilous as quicksand. She had a lot of common with my sister, who by the way was surprisingly engaged in a blushing dance with Cecil.

My sister and Cecil… I shook my head and wondered nothing less of friendship, but there were times where I may be wrong. Anyway, excuse me for my current distraction in narrating the story, but I feel like asking Eunice for a little waltz; something good might come out of it.

Til then, I bid everyone the finest day.

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_The End._

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**I'm happy :D**


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